


How to Save a Genie

by Furiyan



Category: Frozen (2013), Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Can't stop the Marvel references, F/M, Fluff, Jack really needs to protect his food, Probably screwed up Genie, Romantic!Jelsa is my addiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-26 03:34:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7558531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Furiyan/pseuds/Furiyan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After saying goodbye to his bound-for-college sister, the only things Jack thinks his night has in store for him is solitude, silence, and season two of Daredevil - but thanks to a lamp, a sarcastic and jaded genie, and the potential to change his life for good, Jack soon finds he's wrong. </p>
<p>After all, it's not every day a beautiful, supernatural force of magic swings by.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How to Save a Genie

" **How to Save a Genie"**

Jack really, _really_ wishes Emma wouldn't steal his fries.

Sat across the table in Benny's, the Fifties-style diner, she's helping herself to his fries while she babbles enthusiastically about her first day at college tomorrow. She hasn't even touched her burger; as per her routine, she annihilates her fries then tucks into his while moving onto her hamburger. "You excited?" he asks, watching her sneak another. He's down to less than half.

"Bro, I am _beyond_ excited," she says with a mouth half-full of hamburger. As her guardian - well, _used_ to be - he knows he should call her out on speaking with her mouth full of food, but...meh. "This is, like, my dream."

She reaches over and swipes another before continuing the theme. "Ella and I have the same majors, and even the same dorm rooms. It's gonna be so _cool_ to live with her and not under that witch's nose!"

The witch being Ms. Tremaine, their foster mother. Emma's description doesn't do that vindictive, haughty old hag justice. Jack's convinced that nothing _will._ Hell, she's the reason he fought his ass off to be Emma's guardian in the first place.

"I'll try not to take it personally," Jack deadpans. Emma practically chokes on her next bite of burger as she realises she just put her foot in her mouth along with her food. At least, that's what he _wants_ her to think.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" she coughs behind a hand, "you know I'll miss living with you!"

A sly chuckle and he waves it off. "I'm just kidding," he says, then adopts a dramatic air, "there comes a time in every youngling's life when they must leave the nest, and though it pains my heart, I must let you be free!"

Speaking of pain, there's a sharp one on his shin - yeesh, Emma's boots sting like hell. Scowling, he takes his revenge by sliding his plate out of her reach. "You act like it's such a drag," she teases, "but just think about all the ladies you'll be able to invite home without your little sister to be a mood-killer!"

Jack rolls his eyes, scoffing. She's not wrong - the last woman to grace his apartment was promptly chased away by the pervasive smell of rotten eggs wafting its way through his living room. Emma had taken a dislike to her arrogance, and chose to set off a stink bomb to get rid of her. "Right," he drawls, "because I have the time to date."

It took an hour with the windows open to dissipate the smell.

"Maybe you will," she points out, "I mean, you won't have to look after me any more. You thought about going to college like you wanted to - you know...before you got me out of there?"

Jack shrugs. He never gave it much thought - his goal was always to find a steady job so he could support her. "Meh, North'd never survive without me. I pretty much _run_ the toy shop."

Emma draws a strand of hair behind her ears, and adjusts her bangs away from her eyes. "Why don't you look into it?" she persists, and there's a look in her eye that's almost pleading. "I mean, you gave up so much for me-"

He holds up a hand. "Em, it's fine. You were worth it. Always have been."

She looks down with a blush. Sighing, her fingers sneak across and kidnap another fry. Frowning, Jack curls an arm around his plate and slides it even further out of her reach. Hopefully. "Although, if you keep stealing my food, then we're gonna have a problem."

"What?" She says, looking off to the sky all sweet and innocent, and everything Jack knows she's _not,_ "Your fries taste better than mine."

"They're the same fries, Em."

A smirk crosses that still-adorable round freckled face, and she dives across the table to snatch another. "Nope. They're yours, which means they taste better."

Jack narrows his eyes, his left hand still gripping the glass of Coke she nearly knocked over. His other hand gestures a reprimanding finger at her. "You know, you moving out means I might actually get to eat a whole meal."

"The life of luxury," she giggles. Glancing at her wristwatch, a Minnie Mouse thing Jack gave to her for her seventeenth birthday, her eyes widen. "Oh, I have to go! Ella's expecting me back at the dorm in half an hour!"

Jack stuffs a fry into the corner of his mouth, and attempts to look and sound as indifferent as possible. Inside, he's an emotional wreck; scared, proud, lonely, _beyond_ happy all at once. He has a feeling that if he lets it slip even once, she might not pursue her dream. Which would suck - especially as she already applied for the loan. "You remember to pack your Linkin Park CDs?"

It's that thing all parents feel - except _he's_ the one to feel it, not Mom and Dad.

"All of them except Hybrid Theory. I know it's your favourite," she says, peering into her rather large backpack while her hands dive in and make a lovely mess of its contents. Jack forces down the lump in his throat, and tries to get his heart to make up its mind between swelling with pride, and breaking. "Means I'll be visiting whenever I can - you don't get rid of me that easy, bro."

Jack looks down and half-smiles.

"Oh," she gasps, noticing something in her backpack. Jack looks up and tries to catch a glimpse of whatever is inside - which happens to be a shoebox. "Ella and I were in the flea market on Seventh yesterday, and I got something for you."

Jack frowns with a curious tilted head. "For me?"

Emma slides her plate aside and carefully places the box in the newly created space, and gazes at it with hope and expectancy. "Yeah, to say thank you."

Curious becomes incredulous. Jack cranes his head back slightly, and regards his sister with a bewildered expression. "Thank you for what?"

Emma sniffs, and when she speaks, her voice cracks a little as though she forgot to drink for about a day. She avoids his eyes, too; every item on their table, from the salt-shaker to the half-eaten burger is glanced at, but not him. "For...f-for everything. You gave up so much to put me first. You always made sure I was never hungry, that I got good grades, you threw away college so you could get a job and support me...you busted your ass-"

"Language."

"-butt... _sorry, Captain America..._ so you could get me out of Tremaine's house. I only wish Ella could have come too…"

"Em," he says gently, "it was a miracle C.P.S let me be _your_ guardian."

"I know, I know," she says, closing her eyes while she holds up a surrendering hand, "I just...I wasn't able to get...for what you've done for me, this," she gestures to the shoebox, "is, like, _nothing..._ but I wanted to show you how grateful I am."

By this point Emma's eyes are open and in danger of mimicking Niagara Falls, and _still_ she avoids his eyes - turns out forehead-length bangs and her incredibly long hair is great for hiding her emotions. Chuckling, Jack rises from his chair to circle the table, and kneels down to embrace his sister in a warm, tight hug. "Emma, it was an honor and a privilege. You just remember to bring your A-game to your studies...and don't forget-"

Like a sibling chorus, she copies him verbatim. "-have a little fun everyday."

Pulling back with her hands on his upper arms, she gazes at him with wet, hazel eyes - the colour of _his_ once upon a time - and promises to study hard but play too. "But you have to make me a promise too, Jack," she says, and gestures with her eyes to the shoebox on her left, "don't open it until you get home."

Jack smirks. "Why, is it magical?" he teases her.

"No," she says a little too airily as she rises from her seat and slings the backpack onto her back, "it's just that if you don't like it, you can't give it back! HAH!" she laughs, and kisses her scowling brother on the cheek before cheering a "Bye, bro!" and hurrying out of the diner faster than anything he has ever seen.

But not before charging back past a bewildered-looking Jack and stealing another French fry.

* * *

It's a _lamp._

Oh, it's a lovely one, alright. Silver, with snowflakes encrusted with some kind of blue gems Jack can't name dot the lamp's surface, and filigree connects them all from the handle to the spout. As far as they go, it's pretty, and Jack _is_ touched by how Emma took into account his love of winter when picking the gift.

But it's still a _lamp,_ and not in keeping per se with the modern-ish aesthetic of his apartment...if there _is_ such a thing. So far, he's tried putting it near his Marvel action figures in his bedroom - but Iron Man isn't too keen on being a glorified example of historical progression and the passage of time. It sticks out like a sore thumb near his computer, and looks _weird_ in the kitchen against the beige countertops and white cupboards.

As he sits on his sofa, a cheap faux-leather thing that he could just about afford, he stares at the lamp sat in the middle of the coffee table while his mind picks apart the day. It's bizarre; _nowhere_ in his apartment looks good with an ancient oil lamp, and he's spent the last hour or so trying to make it work. Even on its lonesome with no usual accoutrements around it, there's a niggling frustration in his mind akin to what a perfectionist feels when they look at a slightly askew poster. It's like the oil lamp is out of place _period_ , not just incongruent to his apartment, and is annoying him enough to distract him from season two of _Daredevil._

Which even Emma wouldn't do.

The small-screen incarnation of Frank Castle - who, in Jack's humble opinion, is way better than previous offerings - just called Daredevil a half-measure in a voice full of fiery rage, and he realises that he's missed most if not all of the scene, such is his thoughtful obsession with lamp placement. Sighing, he cuts his losses, presses the remote's pause button, and flops the arm back down to his side.

His eyes rest back on the lamp through his lower eyelids as he runs a hand though his snow-white hair. "What am I going to do with you…" he murmurs - as if it could respond. Maybe he could hide it in his closet and only bring it out when Emma drops by. Of course, if she was ever to randomly visit then she'd chew him out if she found out he had been hiding it. Don't get him wrong - it's just that he gets the feeling even the _lamp_ doesn't want to be there.

He leans over and picks up the silver object, then flops back onto the sofa. Its surface is cold, almost unnaturally so, like touching the inside of a window after a night of snow and ice. He turns it over in his hands, inspecting its highly reflective and oddly enchanting surface for anything interesting. Marks of wear and tear, engravings, things like that...but it looks pristine. He turns it over so he can peer at the lid, and that's when he does find something interesting - a small mark, just under the rim. He twists around so the living room light can lend him a hand - and it reveals a word. At least, that's what he _thinks;_ there's a streak of dirt along the word. Licking his thumb, he wipes it along the black-ish mark - and it does indeed reveal a word. Specifically, a name.

"Elsa…" he reads it out loud...seconds before everything goes six shades of crazy.

The ornate lamp starts shuddering and vibrating in his hands, and whether or not it's as a result of the completely unexpected movement or the fact that Jack just jumped a mile is anyone's guess, but it goes flying out of his hands, sails through the air and clatters off the coffee table onto the other side. Bewildered and just-a-little-bit-freaked-out, he tentatively rises whilst staying firmly attached to the sofa and peers over the table, wide-eyed.

Yelping, he jumps back in fright as a resounding bang quakes the room, and a snowy-white stream of...snowflakes...bursts forth from behind the table, moving with astonishing speed. It circles around his head - which aches from all the whipping to and fro to try and keep up with whatever the hell this thing is - and touches down just in front of the arm-chair to the sofa's right.

If it wasn't Twilight-Zone level bizarre before, it definitely hits the mark when the stream becomes a pillar, rotates like a whirlwind and then explodes into a million tiny sparkles which, contrary to the fast and furious past few seconds, drift lazily to the ground.

Leaving behind a woman, where the pillar used to be. Yep, the lamp just spouted out a woman.

Completely bereft of a single word or sound to say, pressing himself into the sofa corner like a terrified animal Jack stares wide-eyed and stupefied at the back of this newcomer. She's dressed in clothing that he's pretty sure doesn't exist anymore - a long raven black gown that sits above the waist and hovers a few inches from the floor, a black cap sat on a hair bun that looks painfully tight and...yeah. Pretty much what he's seen in Emma's history books. Early nineteenth century, maybe - except for how the dress becomes more translucent the closer to the floor it goes, and is connected to the lamp by the faintest stream of snowflakes.

Yep, it's safe to say that whoever this woman is, she ain't in Kansas anymore, Toto.

"I don't know which is worse - the indignity of being summoned, or the stiffness in my joints as a result." she sighs. Her voice is well-spoken, elegant and educated, not unlike the Hollywood stereotype of someone from England - and if _that's_ the case, then she's got the thinly veiled sarcasm down to an art. Her shoulders erect and her head high, she takes a deep breath, clenching her hands that hang at her sides.

"...summoned?" Jack involuntarily mumbles.

The woman whirls around at the sound of his voice - and for a moment, Jack's breath hangs in his throat. Her eyes are ice blue and hard, and her plum lips are thinly set into a disapproving line, surrounded by milky skin on a face that could - and probably _has -_ launched a thousand ships. She stares at him with both disappointment and exasperation for a few seconds, enough for Jack to feel like he's back in the principal's office all over again, then plasters quite possibly the most false smile in the world. "Greetings," she says with a forced air of brightness, "I am Elsa. I am the genie who resides in that lamp, and-"

"...you're real." Jack whispers, dumbfounded.

Her eyes roll, her smile drops like a stone, and sarcasm drips from every single syllable. "How observant of you. As I was saying-"

"...you actually exist, you're-"

She folds her arms and glares frustratedly at him. "Real, yes. In addition, shortly to get rather irate if you continue to interrupt my-"

Nope. Women don't just appear out of lamps. Genies don't exist. This is all one huge-ass practical joke by Emma to get him back for all the times he put wasabi in her milkshake. Yet...his instinct is telling him otherwise; this Elsa is truly there, in his apartment, having burst forth from an object that was phased out decades ago. The truth is out there, and in his apartment too. Eat _that_ , Scully.

Nevertheless, freaking out is the order of the evening for Jack. Plastering his own smile, he says with an overly smooth voice to hide his panic,"Will you excuse me for just one minute?" and dashes off into the nearby bedroom to hyperventilate and _probably_ pass out.

* * *

"Holy crap...there's a freaking _genie_ in my living room. They exist. Holycrapholycrapholycrap!"

Running his fingers through his hair, Jack desperately tries to stop himself from freaking out - any more so than he already has, of course - as he paces a deep chasm into his bedroom floor. Questions rage through his mind, questions that assault him subsequent to magic giving science the middle finger. Where did this lamp come from, and did Emma know about its power? Can this woman truly grant wishes, as is the idea, or was it all just a myth?

It isn't long before the barrage of questions begin to overwhelm him. His heart begins to race like a stampede of horses, and his breathing's not exactly calm. Last time he had a panic attack, it was when Tremaine locked him away - he hasn't had one for _years._ "Okay - focus, Jack." he rambles to himself, "Yes, there's a woman in your living room who looks like she just walked out of a time machine. Yes, she's a genie. Stop losing your head - it's not like everything we know about the supernatural has just been flipped over, okay? So get a hold of yourself. Remember - what do you do when you need to learn something?"

He completes another turn and finds himself facing the bed for the bazillionth time, only _now_ his eyes recognise his trusty laptop just by the pillow. Breathing the calm and peace back, he blinks a few times and waits for the world to come back to him - because now he has a _plan._

"Google."

* * *

He rests his hand on the doorknob, closes his eyes, and takes a moment to center himself. They say knowledge is power, and forewarned is four-armed, or forearmed or whatever - and they, whoever _they_ may be, are right. Aside from a quick browse of the history belonging to the Jinn, Jack is now acutely aware of the wish-granting and the sheer possibilities unfolding before him, simply by making three requests.

Strangely, as he had sat on the bed a good fifteen minutes ago and thought long and hard about what he wanted from this woman, the more ideas that popped in his head the more he didn't _want_ anything - but there was one thing he truly felt he could do with the wishes.

"Okay," he murmurs to himself, realising the sheer gravity of what's about to come, "you can do this."

Twisting the knob, he opens the door wide - and for the second time, this Elsa takes his breath away. Rather than the ultra-conservative gown, she has _somehow_ \- probably pulled some hijinks with her powers - materialised on her body a long emerald green sleeveless dress, off-the shoulder and split at the knee, encrusted with sparkles and dotted with lovely pink flowers that also adorn the translucent capelet. Throw in the platinum blonde French braid resting on her left shoulder, and a pink flower adorning her hair - she looks like the very definition of spectacular.

If only she would stop looking at him with contempt.

Throat dry and cheeks flushing crimson, Jack swallows thickly and croaks, "Suits you."

Elsa looks down and smoothens the sparkling bodice. "Well, it would appear that time has passed since I was last summoned, so I felt it was prudent to keep up," she declares flatly, resting one hand over the other in front of her.

Some...time? Jack frowns. "When were you last summoned?"

"What is the year?"

"Twenty-sixteen."

"Approximately two hundred and eleven years ago," she answers matter-of-factly. Jack, however, can almost hear the thud of his jaw hitting the floor. And he thought _he_ was cavalier about time and life.

"How old _are_ you?" he breathes.

Elsa huffs. Wrinkling her nose slightly, she lifts her chin while her entire body stiffens, and she says disapprovingly, "It is not right to ask a lady such a question. Now, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted - three times - I am Elsa, the genie who resides in the lamp you own. As you have summoned me, I can grant you three wishes - anything your heart desires. How may I be of service to you... _Master_?" she finishes, and the contempt practically drips from every word like a gelatinous liquid form of disgust.

Oh, no she _didn't._ Jack's brows rise as he folds his arms, and jutting out his jaw he regards her with a cold eye. "Well for a start - you can lose the 'master' bit. Name's Jack, and I _work_ for a living." He's had enough of her crap, and it's only been a few minutes in total.

"I don't think you comprehend the concept of this verbal agreement," she says as though he is either stupid, a child, or _both._ "As you were the one to summon me, you are my master and I am your...slave." she nearly spits out the last word.

Jack leans forward, shoots her the chilliest of glares and says in a voice hard and reproachful, "In that case, you can definitely shove the whole thing right up there with your snarky attitude. I'm nobody's master, and you are _no-one's_ slave."

Unmoved, she merely cocks an eyebrow. "We shall see - in my experience, the men enjoyed their status as master," she sighs.

"I'm not those men."

She scoffs, and Jack is left with the distinct temptation to toss Plan A away and wish her right back where she came from. Disbelieving, she drawls, "As I said, we shall see. So, if you wouldn't mind, I would like to get on with this so I can retreat to my lamp. Your first wish?"

Jack's answer is simple, flat, and precise. "Five million dollars. I wish for five million dollars."

Elsa rolls her eyes and sighs dramatically as she rests her hands on her hips. "Oh, how positively original. Money. For a moment, you were about to defy my expectations, but apparently you are just as predictable as the others. Here," she says. Shaking her head, all it takes for her to prove beyond a doubt in his mind that she is truly a genie is a simple click of her fingers. "Your precious money."

Jack nearly falls backward in shock as, heralded by a split second _poof_ of smoke and a strange scent of peppermint, an open black suitcase containing a ridiculous amount of Benjamins wrapped in thin paper lands with a thud on the other side of the sofa, spilling its contents onto the floor. "I assume you will be using it to elevate your…" she pauses, casting a critical eye over his rather frugal apartment, "status?"

"I've got plans for it, yeah," he says, cocking an unimpressed eyebrow, "but some of that I'll use to pay my sister's college tuition fee. Grad school too, if she wants it."

There's a moment where Elsa simply stares at him, frowning slightly with parted lips. It's as though she was expecting differently. "You look surprised," he prompts her after an uncomfortable period of silence.

Suspicious, she tilts her head, and slowly answers, "I'm merely curious - every single person that has summoned me in the past has thought only of themselves, yet you are primarily concerned with your sister's education. Though," she pauses, and the haughty attitude comes back full force with a shrug and a lame gesture toward the suitcase, "I suppose you still have the remainder to be unsurprisingly frivolous with."

Jack half-smirks. Oh, this is going to be sweet. "Something tells me you're going to be surprised when we're done. Anyway, we doing the second wish, or what?"

Her eyes simultaneously narrow and darken. "Impatient, too. I honestly didn't see that coming. Yes, Jack, we will - but as I have not existed for as long as some of my kind and therefore have not learned to better utilise my energy, wish-granting tires me. You will have to wait. I know," she sighs dramatically, and with elegance and grace descends onto the armchair whilst smirking, "delayed gratification must be so painful."

Jeez, this genie's a real piece of work. "Wow, sarcasm. How original." he deadpans. "What's got you so jaded?"

"A long story."

"I have time," Jack persists, shrugging like it's no big thing and making like he's interested in the paused picture of Frank Castle.

Elsa cocks an eyebrow, folds her arms, and gives him a look like nothing in the world could impress her. "Are you intending for us to have a chat? Because I'm really not the type for small-talk."

Spreading his hands, Jack acts the part of a tired and indifferent host, and flops down onto the sofa. "Suit yourself - but it's going to be real silent if that's the way you want it to be," he sighs, closing his eyes.

Silence falls between them, and with nothing but the light hum of his satellite box to break up the soundless atmosphere, his stomach dips with the depressing reminder that, for the vast majority of the upcoming three years, he's going to be all alone in the apartment. The loneliness hits him even now, especially with Little Miss Haughty - though as the seconds pass by, he starts to forget she is even there...until...

"One thousand and two hundred years."

Jack regards her out of the corner of his freshly opened eyes. "Come again?"

She's watching him. Even though his vision is somewhat unfocused, he can tell the face of disdain has gone, leaving a more relaxed expression. She crosses her legs, a movement that attracts his eyes, and he _would_ have internally remarked on how freaking impeccable her legs are if he wasn't so distracted by the fact that they're translucent, and tethered from the lamp spout by way of thousands of tiny snowflakes. She probably glides rather than walks.

"Your earlier question as to my age - that is my answer," she says quietly. Jack chooses to raise a simple impressed brow rather than faint in shock - once you've come face to face with a genie, you can kind of take everything else at face value. She studies him for a few more moments, which he assumes is to ascertain whether or not he is worth talking to. "I have been 'alive' for over a millennium, and every time I was summoned by someone, it was always to satisfy their greed whether it be financial, material or...physical."

There's a flash of...pain in her eyes, and she looks away. His heart begins to clench a little, prompting him to sit up, twist to the right and lean his arm across the top of the sofa. So beautiful is she, and so sad. Maybe she isn't the only one guilty of misjudging. "At first, I was seeking to please and enrich lives...but as time went on, I realised that people are naturally selfish. Some even used their wishes to bring suffering on others, and the more I hoped that people would change, the harder those hopes were dashed."

Jack slowly nods, and curls a teasing half smile. "Explains a lot. I was honestly expecting you to be one of those loophole genies that-"

Elsa stiffens bolt upright and shoots him an offended glare. What, did he just insult her integrity? "I may be cold and prickly, Jack, but I am a _professional_. What people want, they get - no tricks or subterfuge."

Well, she's honest, so there's that. What you see is what you get. Jack smiles inside; honesty is good for trust, and he's slowly starting to trust that he made the right decision in the bedroom. Plus...now he knows how to bait her. "So, as for your second wish - I assume you will want a bigger…"

Jack frowns, and mouth-repeats, "A bigger…" before following her rather pointed gestures with her eyes. Turns out, they're halfway down his body...right on his crotch. "What?!" he stammers, cheeks a burning crimson, and throws his hands down to cover it, "No! No-no-no, that's...he's fine the way he is, thanks. Seriously - what the hell?!"

His eyes widen just a little bit more, as something more embarrassing than anything Emma could come up with dawns on him. "Are you saying my...can you _see_ it through these pants?"

"What?" Elsa gasps, and her hands shoot up, "No! No - but you would be surprised how often a larger...tool is wished for," she adds. Awkward.

"Yeah, well it's staying wish-free, thank you very much." Jack grumbles, eyes looking everywhere else but the beet red face of the stunning genie. He shifts his crotch from her view - can't be too careful. Elsa clears her throat, and once more silence descends between them - this time, it's embarrassing and uncomfortable. One thing for a genie to defy the laws of science, another for her to imply size _does_ matter.

"I'm sorry," she says, breaking the silence so abruptly that Jack nearly starts.

"...what?" he mumbles, blinking yet still avoiding her eyes aside from the occasional glance, "Why are you sorry?"

Elsa looks down and fiddles with her hands. "Three times now you have surprised me, and I must confess I am feeling rather guilty about my demeanour towards you, and how I have judged you by everyone that came before you. I am sorry, and I hope I have not offended you by implying..." she hesitates, reaching up to fondle her braid with one hand while lamely gesturing towards his crotch with the other, "...because I don't think it needs...I mean…"

Okay - that's enough of that. Jack holds up a hand and winces. "Can we stop talking about my junk, please? It's...awkward."

"Yes...a-awkward." Elsa agrees, quick enough to stumble over her syllables, "I agree. Erm...yes. Your...um…" she pauses to clear her throat once more, "your second wish?"

Without missing a beat and grateful for the subject change, Jack lets out a relieved sigh, leans forward with his hands together and elbows on his knees, adopts a serious expression and announces, "I wish for IDs in your name, and with your photograph. Passports. Driver's licence. Social security number. That sort of thing."

_Now_ the funny looks return - only she's now looking at him like he's the proud owner of a second head. With incredulity radiating from her being, she says, "...I'm confused. Why are you wishing for such inconsequential things, when you could have-"

Jack smirks, and winks. "Just like the plot of a good series, it'll make sense at the end...unless it's _Lost._ That went a bit crazy - anyway. I wish for that stuff."

"Well...granted, I suppose," she says. With one click of her finger, and the same smoky _poof_ that heralded the arrival of a cool five million, over a dozen small books, cards and documents cascade over the coffee table. Curious, Jack reaches over to pick up the black-covered passport, complete with logo, and peers inside. Elsa Whitethorne is the chosen name - he smiles as it rolls off his head-tongue.

The passport looks to be in order, as far as a lowly civilian can estimate, that is. Jack utters a satisfied hum and tosses it back as Elsa speaks, "You confound me, Jack. I can honestly say I've never met a man like you."

Jack relaxes back into the chair, and spreads his arms either side of him. "S'cause there are no men like me," he says with all the cocky self-assuredness that graced his youth, regarding her with amusement.

"I'm serious," she persists, shuffling to sit at the very edge of the chair to scrutinize him, "I can't help feeling there must be something wrong with you to waste a wish like that, or that you are the same as everyone else, just...stranger."

Jack waves a dismissive hand. "Trust me - it'll all make sense. So - if it's not too personal, how did you become a genie? Were you...born with it, or…"

Elsa pales as her lips part, and within a split second Jack's heart clenches with guilt, coming to the conclusion there was more than simple jadedness behind her cold demeanour and he just hit it with a tactical missile. She looks down, blinking slowly, and starts fiddling with her braid once more. It's on the tip of his tongue to apologise for his insensitivity when...

"To save my sister."

Jack returns to the pre-awkward position of leaning the right side of his body on the sofa, and watches her with deep interest and a little concern - the hands that once fondled her hair now wrap themselves around her chest. Part of him wants to comfort her, but the fluttering of his heart can't seem to go away, though. "You had a sister too?"

She nods, and her brow furrows. Swallowing thickly, she answers, "Yes - though she is long dead by now, hopefully of old age. We…"

Hesitant, Elsa trails off and rests her hands on her crossed knees - though it doesn't take a profiler to see where she's looking - or rather, at _what._ Conscious of the fact that he might have pushed too far, he holds up his hands. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, or if it's personal," he says with a soothing, soft voice.

At his words, she looks up at him. Her head tilts, and her eyes search him for answers to unknown peculiarities. "Strangely, I do," she says with a quiet, curious voice, "you are the only person in twelve hundred years who has cared enough to ask."

She looks away again, and her face takes on a wistful expression. "You see...my sister and I lived in what you call the Viking ages, just before their expansion. She contracted tuberculosis, and back then there was no cure. I was at my wit's end in searching for a way to help her recover, and…when it looked like she…"

"You got desperate."

"Desperate…" she echoes, nods and then smiles bitterly, "yes. I suppose you could say that. Someone passed through our village, offering wares that I had never seen before, and boasting that he had the power to cure any ailment, among other things. Our chieftain and clansmen chased him away...but I found him several miles from our village. I begged him to help Anna, to rid her of the disease...he said that he would, for a price. I was so desperate and overjoyed, I agreed…" she pauses for a few seconds, enough for Jack to get the impression she is kicking herself inside, "without asking _what_ the price was."

A tear slips from her left eye, tracing a shimmering, glittering line down her cheek. Struck with the urge to wipe it away, Jack distracts himself and asks, "He turned you into a genie...and left your sister to die?"

Elsa sniffs, frowns as she wipes the tear, and gently shakes her head. "Oh no, he saved Anna, and I was able to say goodbye - but he bound me to that lamp forever." she gestures with mild frustration toward the offending object, "I have unimaginable power over reality, but I cannot use it to free myself - not to mention the rather cramped living space."

Jack doesn't know why, but the way Elsa ended with a heretofore-uncharacteristically facetious remark tickles him into chuckling.

Her eyes meet his, and she shoots him a half-bewildered, half-stung look. "Why are you laughing?"

"Huh? Oh, nothing," he says, smiling and waving dismissively, "it's just...that's got to be one of the hardest things I've ever heard. You basically just told me that to save your sister you went to some shady guy, was cursed, and never saw her again-and then you ended with a joke about your living space. It's...you just made one hell of a non sequitur."

Jolting upright in realisation, her eyes crinkle with a mirthful smile. "Ah, I see! Yes, that is amusing. I didn't know you knew Latin?"

"I picked up a few things from my sister." Jack offered, shrugging like it was no big thing. It wasn't _really_ his sister per se; he wiki'd something for Emma once upon a time, and a few hours later ended up on a page about the mating habits of honey badgers. Halfway through his wiki-wandering was where he learned about non sequiturs. Stupid time-eating internet.

Elsa shuffles to the edge of her seat, and leans forward. With a hopeful face, she watches him closely and asks, "Will you tell me about her?"

Jack frowns, cocking a light eyebrow. "Really? Uh...you sure? I mean, it's not I-lived-with-the-Vikings kinda stuff…" he mumbles self-consciously.

She shuffles further to the point that she's in danger of slipping to the floor and treating Jack to a view he really shouldn't see. Imploring, she persists, "I'd like to hear about her...only if you want to talk, of course. I understand if it is personal."

"No, no, it's fine. One second," Jack leans his upper back into the sofa and thrusts his hips up, while his hands dive into his pants' back pocket for his wallet. Relaxing one more, he fingers through the little flaps to find two photographs. Elsa quickly rises from her seat and, with her stunning capelet pooling around her, sits down beside him, keenly interested - with such close proximity to her, Jack's stomach does a somersault and catalyses the flutter in his heart. No idea why - probably the faint smell of peppermint she gives off as she leans closer to him, watching eagerly as he pulls the photographs out.

He hands her the first one where a young, beaming Emma sits upon his shoulders, taken a few days before the accident, "Here. This is her when we were kids, and…." He hands her the second, taken only a few days ago in one of those photo-booths. Jack looks fondly at the immortal rendering of eighteen-year-old Emma with her arms wrapped around his neck, her right cheek scrunched up against his left and grinning happily at the camera, "This is her now."

There's a dull ache in his heart that overwhelms the fluttering. Elsa's eyes light up as they dance between the photographs in each hand, and her smile widens. "She looks so happy with you, and her eyes have lost none of the cleverness and intelligence as she has grown up."

Jack laughs, his mirth weighted with knowing and nostalgia. "You have no idea. Of course, she had to be pretty devious…" he says, the laughter dwindling quickly into a heavy sigh. Elsa shuffles around so she can face him, still clutching the photographs, and watches him intently and with concern.

With a voice devoid of the earlier contempt, possessing instead the softness of a cloud that makes him want to pour out his woes, she asks, "What do you mean?"

Jack glances at her a few times, wondering how easily she's able to relax him. Sighing defeat after a short internal battle, he tells her that which he's never told _anyone._ "When I was fifteen and she was seven, our parents died in a crash - a trucker fell asleep at the wheel. They...we were told that Mom and Dad were killed instantly."

Her face falls. "I'm sorry," she says sadly. Jack tries _hard_ to ignore the sensation of her hand on his, figuring that if he calls attention to it, she'll withdraw. If anything, it strengthens and comforts him.

"Huh? Oh, don't be," he waves dismissively, "we've pretty much gotten over it. Anyway, because we had no other family and were both minors we were put into the system."

She cocks her head. "System?"

Jack scratches his temple and frowns at how to explain it to someone...well, not from around here. "Um, well, kids who have no family or who've been taken away from their parents are put into something called a foster system, and if they're lucky they find homes with foster parents who really want to look after kids."

"It sounds very much like the orphanages that were around when I was last in the world," Elsa says, nodding sagely.

"Yeah, pretty much. Problem was...my sister and I weren't lucky." he says, grimacing.

"You did not find a home?"

"Oh, we did, and we _were_ lucky to stay together...but honestly? I wish - wait, scratch that - I mean, if I had a choice, I would never have let them…"

A long, uncomfortably long exhalation of breath pours from his nose, and he scowls at the furthest corner of the coffee table. "Ms. Tremaine was her name, and she was...I can't say it in polite company. Put it this way - when I gave her attitude, she locked me under the stairs. When Emma tried to get me out, she locked her in her bedroom. She kept the boys and girls separate, and as I was the only boy there it meant I was alone. She had us clean the house from top to bottom even if we already did it earlier in the day, sometimes until our fingers were sore and bleeding."

The hand that had been calming him rips away, if only to cover its owners mouth, parted in shock. "How horrible...and she was a foster _mother?"_

Jack gives her a look that screams _you-ain't-seen-nothin'-yet._ "Oh, she wasn't just a foster mom, she had her own two daughters, Drizella and Anastasia. Spoilt, stuck-up, self-centred, narcissistic brats that bullied my sister and her best friend Ella every day, and always got away with it 'cause they were Mommy's little darlings. Once I got them back by putting chilli powder in their face cream, so their face got all blotchy and red just before their dates. I owned up to it so Emma wouldn't get the blame, but Tremaine put me under the stairs for a week with barely any food, and was only allowed out when I needed the bathroom."

Incredulous, Elsa gapes."Jack, that's horrifying. The authorities were blind to this?"

"Trust me - Tremaine was world-class at hiding the truth when they came. Anyway - when I hit eighteen and was legally able to take care of myself, I got the hell out of there and got a job. Busted my butt for months so I could prove to Child Protective Services that I was capable of looking after a minor, and as soon as they gave me the green light I got Emma out of there. Been her guardian ever since…"

He finds the words drift away from him, and the worries about Emma's wellbeing as well as dreading being alone sit heavily in his chest. "Well, until tonight."

"If I may ask, what is significant about tonight?"

"She starts college tomorrow, so she moved out. I...uh...said goodbye to her a few hours ago, actually. It's how I have your lamp - she bought it for me to say thank you."

"You must be very proud of her," Elsa says, smiling warmly in a way that makes Jack's mind happily go blank, "and I can truly say I have never met a man like you."

Jack smirks. "Told you."

* * *

The hours pass quickly, with the conversation ranging from what happened between the early nineteenth century and now - at least, to the best of Jack's knowledge and the ever-reliable internet...something which puzzled and excited Elsa greatly when she looked at his phone - to her fascination with ' _those pictures that move...are there people in that box?'._ Thankfully Jack had the presence of mind to switch away from _Daredevil_. Brutal violence to someone who has only just learned of the television is a great way to scare the hell out of her.

For the most part, he and Elsa simply talk. She smiles and laughs freely, a world away from her earlier quick-judging demeanour, and when he talks she listens intently. When _she_ talks, he finds himself hanging on every word, both because he thinks her voice is like a choir of angels or something cliched like that, and because her first-hand knowledge of history is fascinating.

A darker period of her life involved her last master, a man called Hans Westergard who used his first two wishes for power and wealth, and deliberately held off on his third wish, ostensibly preferring the knowledge of having a supernatural force of magic under his control to anything else. According to Elsa, he was a despicable man who enjoyed power over people, and who felt nothing for anyone - not even for his unfortunate wife, whom he regularly abused both mentally and emotionally. With his hands, too, if he had a particularly bad day.

Jack curiously types Westergard's name into Google on his phone - if anything, he should be able to give Elsa answers as to why Hans, with one wish to go, was not the one to summon her next. Figuring that his status and wealth should make it easy to find him, Jack navigates through the myriad links - bingo. "Hans Westergard, born seventeen-eighty-one, died eighteen-oh-five." he reads the biography link aloud. Elsa, however, is practically over his shoulder which is doing him _no_ favours in thinking straight. Not to mention the peppermint scent turning his brain to lightheaded mush. "Huh. Apparently one of his maids flipped out, stabbed him several times with a fire poker and burned his mansion to the ground. Hah. Karma's a bitch."

"Indeed," Elsa agrees, and though she tries hard to hide it, Jack can hear the pleasure in her voice, "it is rather poetic, his justice."

"Ain't that the truth. Lucky he wasn't around for his third wish, right?"

Elsa's face, once bright and jubilant, falls like a stone. Her eyes drift down to the floor, whilst her left hand surges up to fondle her braid. Jack opens his mouth in puzzlement; whatever good humour and cheer existed, whatever light electricity hung between them dies in that moment.

"Something I said?" he asks.

"No," she says sadly, shaking her head, "but what you're about to say." She looks up at him, and her eyes seem to shimmer as she regards him with a forlorn, regretful gaze. "It's time for your third wish."

It dawns on him, then. Third wish means she goes back into the lamp, and they never see each other again. Once you have expended your wishes you can rub on the lamp all you want - no more genie. You had your turn; don't be greedy. He'd become so involved in the conversation that he'd forgotten all about the wishes, that their time together...that _she_ is finite. Pretty soon, he'll be alone again.

"That time already?" he tries to chuckle light-heartedly, "and I was having so much fun."

"Me too." Elsa says. Her lips curl into a small smile. "But all good things come to an end."

"I guess you're right," Jack sighs. Pushing against his knees, he rises to his feet - probably some pathetic attempt at respect. That said, he has nothing but respect for the woman in front of him who, brimming with immeasurable power, stands up with him. Her false smile is back, but it hides dread rather than contempt - and as always, her eyes tell the story. "I wish for-"

Elsa steps forward and holds up a hand. "Wait," she says, and that same hand moves down to gently hold his, "I just wanted to say…"

His heart racing at her touch, Jack waits patiently while her mouth opens and closes; after a thousand years of being let down, she doesn't know what to say. He wonders if she even believes it all happened. "I just...I wanted to say," she hesitates, as though the words hide from her. "I wanted to say that I am glad your sister bought my lamp, as it meant that I could meet you. And I am glad to have met you."

He half-smiles, chuckling. "Only took a thousand years."

Elsa's smile falters. "Time passes in the blink of an eye, Jack. Anyway - shall we?"

She steps back and holds her hands together, patiently awaiting his request. "Okay, my wish-"

Cheekily, he wonders if she's ready for this.

"My third wish is for you to be free."

Elsa's reaction is...unanticipated. "A good choice," she says, and lifts her hand to click her fingers-

"Wait, what?"

-which freeze in place when it hits her exactly what he just said. Her face goes blank, her eyes wide. "What did you just say?"

Jack's lips pull into a chuckling smile. "My third wish - you're free."

She gasps, and her hands shoot up to cover her mouth as she automatically stumbles back and stares at him in disbelief, practically tripping over her capelet. She shakes her head. "Please don't." she whimpers, barely audible behind her hands, "please don't joke about that."

Jack frowns - not that he's expecting it, but shouldn't she be over the moon? "I'm...I'm not joking. Isn't this what you wanted?"

She shakes her head with greater vigor. "You don't understand," she says, her voice trembling with fear, "Hans would say things like that, but he always said ' _I_ could _wish'_ or ' _I_ should _wish'._ He made me believe, and then he tore it away from me so many times...Jack, you cannot joke about this."

Jack's heart clenches. Without thinking, he steps forward so closely that he can once again drown in that peppermint scent, clasps her hands in his, and murmurs, "I may be a prankster and occasionally immature, but even I would never make a joke about something like that. I have standards."

She stares up at him, with eyes shimmering wet. Her hands squeeze his - the softness of her skin and the way she grips his fingers is one hell of a distraction, though. Slowly, she's beginning to believe. "You...you truly…"

"Yeah, Elsa." Jack nods, smiling. Dammit, now _his_ eyes are starting to burn. "You're free."

In that moment, she believes. And then the magic happens.

An unseen force gently lifts both her and the lamp into the air, but surprisingly enough for her to sharply intake a breath and wildly whip her head around her. Jack takes two steps back out of the danger zone, and watches as a renewed blizzard of snowflakes pours forth from the lamp spout and swirls around her hovering legs at astonishing speeds. Oddly enough - exactly like her arrival a few hours ago. A wind roars around his apartment, kicking up the identification documents and ruffling his hair whilst sending her braid into a whipping frenzy. The swirling snowflakes reach a crescendo of speed, looping around her legs from toes to hips and back again, before _exploding_ in a dazzling display of lazily descending, twinkling stars.

Still in the air she looks up at him, stunned by what just happened, but not enough to forget basic physics. "Um...gravity," she whispers, and then drops.

Jack surges forward, throwing his arms out just in time to catch her. Her left arm leashes itself around his shoulder while her right grips his left forearm. She's panting, gasping for breath, and her eyes are wide like a dinner plate. He shifts his forearm to grip her hand, and he can feel her racing pulse under his fingertips. One quick glance from him to her legs - it's real. "I…" she tries.

"Easy there," Jack murmurs, "you're one of us lowly mortals now."

She blinks. "I'm…" Frowning slightly, it's like she doesn't quite believe it. "I'm...human?"

Tittering quietly, Jack winks. "Look down."

And she does.

She takes practically a lungful of surprised breath; no longer are her legs semi-translucent, connected by a thin stream of snowflakes to the lamp spout. They're solid. They are made of matter. They are milky, smooth and _beautiful._

Incidentally, they're also spectacularly incapable of holding her weight - Elsa must have never truly walked as a genie. Hence her heavy leaning into his body for support - not that he's complaining, of course. It does reinforce his suspicion that her 'walking' as a genie _looks_ like walking, but is in fact gliding.

"I'm," she breathes, "free…"

She looks up at him. "This can't be real!" she hisses. "Quickly, make a wish!"

Jack's face goes blank, and he blinks several times at being put on the spot. "Um...I wish for…" he mumbles, "um - a bowl of mint choc chip ice cream."

Almost instantly her fingers snap together. Almost instantly she realises that it's all real, it's all true, that she's free of her imprisonment - because nary a drop of mint choc chip ice cream materialises in the room. Her face lights up with overjoyed glee, and she throws her arms around his neck and buries her face in his shoulder. Taken aback by the suddenness, Jack tentatively encloses her with his arms, and feels the light jerks of sobbing into his shoulder. "I'm free…" she whimpers, "after a thousand years, I'm finally free.."

Jack reckons it's a good time for some humour. "Hey, don't run before you can walk - you've still got to get a job, pay your taxes - and let's not even talk about jury duty. Jeez."

She jerks into his shoulder for a different reason - giggling laughter. "I think I can get used to that."

Jack throws his own mirth in with hers, and melts into the warmth of holding her against him - even if it is for physical support. "Famous last words," he chuckles, "so, here's a stupid question - how are you feeling?"

"Would you like a list?" she laughs, flippant. When Jack answers that he would, she adds, "Happy, scared, excited, overwhelmed, overjoyed," she pauses to take a breath, "weak, nervous-"

There's a loud, audible rumble from the area of her midsection.

"-and hungry, apparently." she finishes. "Correction - starving."

"Think you can walk?" Jack asks, grinning, "'cause I know of a great place to eat."

Elsa looks up at him and smiles warmly. "I think I would certainly like to try."

His grin cemented, Jack suggests she should probably change into something else - the dress is fantastic, mind you, but for what they're about to do it's not exactly practical - and helps her to sit back down on the sofa so he can retrieve some of his clothes that might just fit. Blue denim pants a hooded sweater and a T-shirt; she looks like a _Team Cap_ girl, so _that_ part's easy.

As he straightens up, however, her hand shoots out to grip his wrist, and looking down he finds himself lost in her wide, ice-blue eyes. "You okay?"

She smiles. "Yes - I just wanted to say...there was one more emotion."

"What's that?"

"Gratitude," she says, "I wasn't sure how to articulate it, but...thank you. Thank you so much, for freeing me. I have a life now, a _future_ , because of what you did - though I am unsure of what to do…"

The left corner of Jack's lips curl into a cheeky smirk. "Tell you what. Food now, existential discussion later."

He squeezes her hand with his left, and moves off to the bedroom - stopping once to turn back and say, "Oh, and you're welcome."

There's a glinting that catches his eye as he turns again towards the bedroom - Elsa's lamp, on its side on the living room floor. He utters a single, satisfied hum; now it's just an inanimate object, now its prisoner is free.

Maybe now he'll find a place for it.

* * *

The journey takes about three times longer than it did with Emma, and that's pretty much down to Elsa still getting to grips with something Jack realised he took for granted - walking. Her steps are insanely slow, and she's by no means stable - but she's _happy._ Her smiles are wide, her laughter free, and even the simple act of putting one foot in front of the other is awesome.

And Jack? Well, he feels privileged and a little bit amused.

They're only a few feet away from the diner, though, when she shouts "Wait!"

After jumping half a foot in fright, and in the middle of staving off a potential heart-attack and near-miss change of brown pants - shut up, Deadpool - Jack opens his mouth to ask what's up.

It hits him. Literally. Right on his nose.

"Rain," she breathes, her eyes lighting up like Christmas morning as she looks at him. "It's raining."

Jack knows what she's about to ask before she even asks it - so, once he's ensured that she won't topple over, he steps a couple of feet away from her, and watches childish wonder and beauty unfold. The rainfall comes light to moderate, not the usual thudding that Arendelle experiences, but loud enough to clearly be heard as it impacts the asphalt. Elsa closes her eyes, moves her face to the sky as she holds her hands out and palms-up...and smiles as the raindrops land on her skin and slide down her cheeks, cascade down her hands and darken his hooded sweater in navy blue spots.

"After a thousand years," she says loudly over the pitter-pattering on the wet asphalt, enjoying very much what Jack and most others consider to be trivial, "I had long forgotten how it felt to be kissed by the rain…"

* * *

Given that _technically_ Benny's is closed - the owner Sandy owes Jack a favour, one which he called in for this - he and Elsa are the only two people aside from the waiter Robin, and the chef Sandy himself. Which is good, especially considering Elsa's like a kid in a candy store. The neon strip lights in various designs on the wall, the back of a Cadillac protruding above the kitchen, and the various pictures of Presley, Sinatra, Aretha Franklin, Billie Holiday and Sammy Davis Jr dotted everywhere - all of it is like a wonderland to Elsa, who had spent the twenty or so minutes waiting for the food they ordered picking his brain as to who the singers are.

The amount of times Jack had to go to the jukebox at the corner of the large diner had started to get ridiculous after about the tenth song, but every time he did Elsa's face made it worth it. Particularly as he now knows she has a newly developed fondness for Aretha Franklin.

As for the food; Jack ordered a simple hot dog and fries with a coke, but Elsa went nuts. Cheeseburger and fries. Hot dog. Chicken Caesar salad. Two milkshakes; strawberry, and mint - and don't even start on the dessert; chocolate brownies and vanilla ice cream, with another bowl of mint choc chip ice cream.

There's no way in hell she's going to eat it all, but the sheer look of wide-eyed wonder when Robin puts the plates down in front of them just shows that it doesn't really matter. Everything he takes for granted is nothing short of amazing for her. So, naturally, the expression of sheer bliss every time she has a mouthful of food - watching her follow up a bite of burger with a forkful of brownie is nauseating, but hey - swells Jack's heart to the point that he's in danger of spontaneous levitation.

"This is…" Elsa says enthusiastically behind a mouthful of salad, a healthy option undone by the hot dog before it, "this is truly delicious. I've never tasted food this good...actually," she pauses to heartily jab her fork into a piece of chicken and stuff it into her mouth, followed by the rolling of her eyes into the back of her head and a blissful _mmm,_ "I had forgotten what food tasted like."

Jack's shoulders jerk with a single chuckle. "Not bad for your first meal, huh?" he says before taking another bite of his hot dog.

"Let's just say that only the rich would eat like this, when I was last in the world." she says, her eyes dancing hungrily between each plate. "I often tried the occasional morsel, but it would dissolve in my mouth. A genie has no need of sustenance, so…" she trails off as she picks up her burger.

Jack stiffens. He makes the sound of an idea popping in his head, hilariously muffled by his hot dog, and places it back down while he swallows. "I meant to ask - you had this ultimate power, right?"

Her lips now encircling the straw of her mint shake - head out of the gutter, Jack - Elsa nods.

"Why didn't you go back in time? You know, just after the point you left?"

Elsa's demeanour falters a little, and her eyes lose a little of their childish shine. Instantly, Jack regrets his question. "The rules prohibit it." she answers, discomforted.

Jack frowns, and counts off his fingers, "They do? I thought it was no killing, no forced falling in love-"

"-and no resurrection of the dead. Precisely. I'm impressed." she offers him a wry smile. "However, there are more rules, we just don't mention them that often." She lifts up her index finger. "One is that you cannot wish for infinite wishes. It cannot be done. Another," up goes another finger, "is that you cannot alter the fundamental aspects of humanity, which goes hand-in-hand with the ' _no forced love'_ rule, and then there is the rule where you cannot go back in time and alter history. Far too much power in the wrong hands." she finishes, and proceeds to suck on the straw.

"I don't know," Jack says in a voice close to deadpan, "there's a few things I'd like to change. One thing, actually."

Gulping milkshake, Elsa shakes her head so vigorously her braid dips and rises on her shoulder. "But that sequence of events led you to this point in time. If it had not been for them, you would not be here," she says firmly, but her voice softens by wide margin, "and if I may selfishly add, I...I would still be in the lamp and not having dinner with you."

Jack's lips curl into a toothy smile, and he bursts into laughter - something that causes a flash of confusion and a little bit of hurt across Elsa's face. "What's so funny?" she asks.

"I was actually talking about the time I was going to put wasabi in Tremaine's hot chocolate, but didn't go ahead with it." he says in teasing amusement, "but thank you!"

Elsa flushes a deep crimson, and averts her eyes to her burger. "Oh! O-of course. My mistake." she mumbles, and stuffs a forkful of brownie into her mouth. She can't prevent the moan of enjoyment at the taste, however. "So good…" she sighs, "these...what did you call them... _brownies_ must be expensive if they taste this amazing…"

"Meh," Jack shrugs offhandedly, "they're not too pricey. Thing is," he pauses, leaning forward with his arms crossed on the table. Elsa watches him a little nervously, especially when he adopts a sly smirk. "You're the one who's paying for them."

Elsa scoffs, rolling her eyes. "Don't be silly. I've been a human for about ninety minutes. I have no money."

"Actually," Jack trails off, faux-inspecting the nails of his right hand, "you do."

He glances out of the corner of his eye - perfect. Her expression is complete furrowed-brow puzzlement. Half-smiling, all he needs to do is wait. She'll get it.

The penny drops, along with the fork in her hand that bounces off the table and clatters to the floor. Oblivious, she gasps in shock. Her eyes go wide as saucer plates, and her hands cover her mouth. "The first wish…"

"Ayup."

"That wasn't for you…"

"Nope."

"It was for me…" she breathes.

"Ayup - well, minus my sister's cut. But yeah, you're the proud owner of four million and blah-blah-lost-count dollars." Jack grins.

She manages another sharp gasp - pretty soon she'll faint from hyper-oxygenation, he reckons. "But, b-but...why?"

Jack relaxes into the booth, and spreads his arms either side of him. "My plan was always to set you free if you wanted it, ever since I stopped freaking out after you first appeared, and did some reading. Thing is, to start off in this world you need two things," he lifted up the same amount of fingers, and counted them off, "money, and an identity. Now you have both - everything you need for your new life."

Her hands are trembling, and she's about two seconds from bursting into tears. "You...you wasted all of your wishes... _all_ of them...on me?"

"Not wasted." Jack holds up a finger and corrects her.

She shakes her head. "I don't think you realise the gravity of what you've done, Jack." she says in a cracking, tremulous voice, "Through me, you had unimaginable power over reality itself! You could have done anything, possessed _anything_ you wanted!"

"I don't want anything else," Jack says slowly, "I'm happy with what I have, and where I am. I help make toys for kids, I have a fantastic sister...people waste their lives chasing what they think they _think_ is happiness, and sometimes they're blind to what's in front of them. I'm not. I'm where I want to be."

"But-"

"But what?" Jack spreads his hands. "You've spent a thousand years trying to make people happy; it's about damn time someone did it for you." he finishes, ripping a fry apart with his teeth for emphasis.

Face blank with shock, her mouth opens and closes like a goldfish. "I...I...I don't know what...I don't know how to thank you…"

Jack half-smiles. "And you'll never have to," he winks, "but you could always tell me what you're gonna do with your newfound freedom."

She blinks - a lot. "Um…" Her brow creases and relaxes, and her still-stunned eyes drift over to the window. Seeing her lost for words is so adorable - but her voice is like a drug, so it's kind of a catch twenty-two. "Well…"

"C'mon," Jack encourages her, shuffling forward and leaning slightly toward her, "what did you most want to do when you were a genie?"

"I suppose…" she hesitates, and rests her elbow on the table so her chin can sit in her hand, staring out into the night-time street, "I wanted to see the world. Paris, Rome...places that I could not visit thanks to the lamp."

"Well now you've got the chance."

"Now I have the chance…" she softly echoes him. Her eyes drift back over to his, "Jack, would you…"

"Would I what?" he says, before taking a mouthful of coke...

"Would you come with me?"

...and he chokes on said drink. Hoarsely, he sputters, "Ex-genie says what?!", wide-eyed and beet-faced.

Elsa immediately flushes red and fiddles with her braid. "I was wondering - erm - if you would join me. For...practical reasons, of course."

Despite the murder of his throat, he smirks. "Of course."

Her ears go pink, and she quickly averts her eyes. Nervous, she trips over her words. "I mean - I am unfamiliar with this time period, so I, ah, would need company-I mean-a guide-"

"Oh, definitely. Someone who'll hold you close in places you don't know."

She frantically waves her hands. "Yes! Wait-no...I mean...you don't _have_ to-"

"I'd love to."

"...what?" she says blankly.

Chuckling, Jack reaches over to take one of her hands in both of his, and looks deeply into her startled-bunny eyes to make sure she's got the message, "I'd love to join you."

It takes her a few seconds and more than a few incredulous blinks, but a brilliant beam sweeps across her face. Jack barely notices - in fact, most of the world is a blur around him as he loses himself in those eyes of blue. "Marvellous," she says just above a whisper, "I hoped you would."

"Wouldn't miss it." Jack grins, relaxing back into his chair with his arms either side.

"So - where should we go first?" Elsa asks, and immediately starts to shuffle to the edge of the booth. Jack's brow creases and an eyebrow shoots up.

"What - you mean _now?_ "

"Well...yes?" she answers innocently.

Jack snorts into teasing chuckles, something that lasts well past the line of teasing and more into uncomfortable, judging by the resurgent blush on her ears. "Whoa there. Let's think about this - it's nine-thirty at night. You've been human for less than two hours, and you still have to learn about how much the world has changed." She opens her mouth to protest, but he quickly cuts her off - he's likely to take her up on it such is her temptation, "I know you're excited, but trust me, there's no rush. Take it easy, Elsa. Savour your freedom."

* * *

As disappointed as she is, she knows Jack's right. Oh, it was so tempting, though - after a millennium of isolation and servitude, shackled to a small object, the urge to dive headfirst into her newfound freedom was _so_ strong. A constant buzz of excitement and naive energy threatening to overwhelm her.

Besides, if she rushes everything, she won't get to enjoy her moments with him - and oddly, those are the moments she finds herself looking forward to the most.

"You are right," she sighs, secretly disappointed but also secretly grateful, "I should be patient. What would you suggest I do first?"

He scratches his temple and pulls out that strange device he calls a _smartphone_ , the thing that allows him to look at pictures without canvas, and talk to people far away. "I actually have an idea about that," he says, and Elsa finds herself to be childishly curious about this idea, "but I need to make a call first. You gonna be okay on your own?"

"Erm," she trails off, her eyes falling down to her food - particularly the hot dog, which took some convincing from him that it was not made of an actual dog - "yes, I think I shall be fine."

Jack smiles at her - it's been so long since her heart fluttered, and the sensation is _so_ strong and _so_ divine - and tells her he'll be right back before disappearing out of the diner. For a moment, she is tempted to follow him - but has a suspicion her legs will make a fool out of her.

"Of all the diners in all the world, you had to walk into this one."

Startled, Elsa's head whips to the left where a strange man in a long beige coat and slightly ridiculous hat leans on an empty table. He looks jaded and grumpy, and he watches her with a seemingly _bored_ expression. "Excuse me?" she asks.

He straightens up and throws his arms wide, his jaw to the floor. Literally. "Don'tcha recognise me, kid?"

It takes her a moment, but the subtle insanity in his eyes plus the rather helpful jaw resting on the floor helps it to finally dawn on her, with a gasp of glee and her hands clasped together. "Genie?!"

The strange man disappears in a puff of twinkling purple smoke, leaving behind a vivid blue entity with a razor-sharp thin beard, a wild grin and huge arms that comedically flex. "The one and only, kid!"

"I haven't seen you since-"

"The year eight hundred and…" he dons a studious expression, complete with magically appearing eye glasses that make his eyes look huge, and counts far more than the expected five fingers on his left hand, "thirty, amirite?"

"Yes! It was in our dimension; you were sulking about an argument you had with your master, before you were summoned. I never saw you again after that!" she says in a breathless voice, completely surprised yet over the moon to see her old friend again. Genie was invaluable in helping her come to terms with her new life - once she got past his non-stop insanity - and the otherworld was bearable thanks to him.

"S'cause I got freed, kid! Check out these new legs!" he cheers, and immediately takes on the form of a blue-skinned ballet dancer, holding _both_ of his legs into the air. To anyone else, it's a break from reality. To Elsa, it's _normal._

"You aren't the only one," she says happily, and turns her body so Genie can spy her legs from under the table.

What follows is...well...Genie. "Wohooo!" he yells, leaping into the air where seven identical copies burst from him, each toting a different instrument, and promptly do parade circuits of the diner whilst making a racket with their trombones, trumpets and huge drums. "Go Elsa! Go Elsa!"

She bursts into giggles; Genie was the only one aside from Jack to make her laugh. There's a huge puff of purple smoke that engulfs the diner, which usually means he's stopping his antics. For the next few minutes at least. Maybe seconds. Clone-free, he darts over and slides into Jack's spot, waving his arms in the air like he's just won something amazing. "I did it! I did it! I knew that Emma girl would come through!"

Elsa's giggles instantly cease, and her eyes go wide at the mention of Jack's sister. "Wait, what?"

Genie's celebration instantly freezes with his arms above his head, and his expression becomes that of a child caught doing something naughty. "Well," he quips, a split second before turning into a tiny donkey sat on the booth bench and deadpanning, "don't I feel like an ass."

Elsa folds her arms, purses her lips and gives him a glare so cold it could freeze him solid. "Elaborate - and I would also like to know how you still have your powers."

The donkey morphs back into his usual form. Twiddling his thumbs, Genie keeps casting her nervous looks out of the corner of his eye as he faces Jack's hot dog - interesting how he could wipe her from reality, yet _he_ is looking like a scolded child. "Um, well, second one's easy. Me, magical," he points to himself and then points to her, "you were human, then you were genie-fied."

Holding his hands up either side of him like he's carrying something, he adds, "You used magic, I kinda _am_ magic. You-"

"I think I understand, old friend." Elsa says tonelessly. "And as for Emma?"

"Ah," Genie mumbles, pulling on an imaginary collar, "well that's complicated. Like, yarn of wool in a box of cats complicated." he adds, conjuring an actual ball of red wool in his hand.

"Uncomplicate it."

Genie sighs. "Oyyy. Welp, time to get comfy," he says resignedly, and a purple bathrobe spontaneously materialises around his person as he speaks with a low growl, "It was a cold, dark night, and the city was heavy with-"

" _Genie."_

He throws his hands up in the air. "Aright, aright. Heard on the grapevine you were getting treated badly by your master, so just before his maid went cuckoo-crazy-land-"

Elsa's sure she hears an actual cuckoo sound from somewhere in the diner.

"-I snuck into his house and got you outta there. Kept hold of you for a couple-a centuries, while I looked for someone who'd set you free. Tried rubbing your lamp myself, but...ixnay on the whole ex-genie summoning genie thing. Anyway, went to the Arendelle flea market as a merchant, and this girl came by - we started talking, and she told me all about her brother."

"Jack." Elsa whispers.

Genie grins and gives her two thumbs up. "That's him! More she said, the more I knew her brother would free you. So I sold her your lamp - looks like my plan worked!"

"I can't believe this...you…"

"Yeah!" he cheers. "So, tell me about what happened!"

Elsa's cheeks start to burn as thoughts of him swim to her mind's eye. "He didn't-didn't just free me. He used all of his wishes on me."

"He did _what?!"_

Genie's jaw hits the table - literally - causing Jack's plate to flick up, his hot dog to fly out and land in her plate of brownies. Hot dog brownies and ice cream. Even she isn't brave enough to try _that,_ she notes, taking a sip of milkshake.

"Okay, he's a keeper. Elsa, you are to pursue this guy immediately." Genie says with an air of commanding sternness - and the military uniform that spontaneously appears emphasises that. Especially when he adds, "that's an order, soldier!"

She then chokes on said milkshake. Coughing, she rasps, "What?!" and stares in bewilderment.

"I'm serious!" he says in a slightly higher pitch.

"Genie," Elsa begins, holding her hands up to calm the blue entity down. If it wasn't for her being used to his antics, she'd be overwhelmed and hiding under the table by now. "I was only just freed - I still have a lot to learn. It's a little too fast, don't you think? Besides," she trails off, and that rather embarrassing surge of heat announces its presence on her neck, cheeks and ears as she looks away shyly, "we are just friends."

Genie smirks knowingly. "You like him, don't you?"

Elsa's eyes widen and shoot up to meet his in protest. "No!"

"You can't fool me." he laughs. Instantly, he appears at her side, "Your cheeks are redder than a tomato," then hovers _upside down_ in front of her so he can say, "your pupils dilate when you talk about him," and, for the piece de resistance, he dons a long white coat, puts two fingers on her wrist whilst checking an imaginary watch and says, "and oh my, your pulse is racing!"

Elsa rolls her eyes - it's better to let him get on with it half of the time. "Be that as it may, he...he might not be interested."

There's an audible slap as Genie rather forcefully applies his hand to his face, and slowly wipes it down. "I've been watching you both, sister - _he's interested_."

"H-how were you…" she begins, but then it hits her like a fish to the face. Which Genie would do. "You're the waiter."

"Ayep!" he says proudly, morphing into the middle-aged, jolly-faced waiter for a second and back again, " _will you be having the chicken or the sea bass?"_

Elsa sighs, and shakes her head in exasperation, the left corner of her lips curling in a wry smile. "Okay, I will bite. How do you know he's interested?"

Genie slides back onto Jack's bench and rests his chin in his hands, staring at her with a dreamy expression and eyes that are literally made of hearts. "The last time I saw a man look at a woman that way, it was a street rat falling for a princess. Trust me, kid - I call 'em like I see 'em."

His smile falters, and he straightens up to look over Elsa's fiercely blushing face. Curious both at what he's so focused on, and for the sudden drop in mood, Elsa twists around in her bench - Genie's looking at a wall. Certainly, it's a _pretty_ wall, with a black-and-white tiled aesthetic, but…

"Aa-and that's my cue." he announces briskly. Purple smoke envelops him from head-to-toe, then drifts away to reveal his waiter guise. Clasping her hands in his, he says quickly, "Look, kid - most important thing is to have fun, amiright? World's your oyster. Oh, and one more thing - other people's food tastes nicer!"

Before Elsa can open her mouth, Genie teleports in a smaller puff of smoke to the other end of the diner, and conjures a mop from thin air to look busy. Seconds later, movement from the other side of the window catches her eye - and true to Genie's questionable medical assessment, her heart quickens a little when she notices Jack smile at her on his way to the door.

She offers a wave back, looks down at her food - which, had her stomach not been doing flip-flops, she'd be tucking into - and lets out a breath through pursed lips. Something tells her that what Jack has to say may only add to the sensation of being distinctly overwhelmed...or her life finally beginning. He flops down onto his bench and grins widely at her, so as to fight the urge to do the same and _really_ show her cards, Elsa takes a long sip from her milkshake.

"Hey, sorry about that, I-" Jack trails off upon noticing his hot dog in _her_ dessert. Silence falls between them, a confused silence where he frowns, relaxes and frowns, trying to work out why his food is now covered in vanilla ice cream. "You know what," he blurts, holding his hands up, "I'm not even going to ask."

"Sensible choice," Elsa giggles. Swallowing, she adds, "So, what is your idea?"

"Huh?" Jack mumbles. "Oh! Right. Yeah. So - I figured that you'd probably need to find your feet first and get used to this century before you did anything, right? So...I was thinking…"

"What?" she softly prompts him.

"You could come and live with me."

Elsa's breath catches, his suggestion taking her completely by surprise. For someone who encouraged patience and ' _taking it easy',_ this is awfully fast. Gaping, her mind newly blank, she whispers, "...what?"

Jack's ears go bright pink, his eyes widen a little and his mouth opens and closes faster than any horse Elsa has ever seen. "W-well," he stammers, adorably at that, "you don't have to, I know we've only known each other for a few hours, but-I was just thinking-you need a place to live while you work out what you're gonna do, so you could use my sister's old room for a few weeks while you-you know-find your feet, maybe look for your own place to live. Could talk about what you wanna do with your money-I just thought-"

"Jack."

"-I know, I'm kinda being selfish what with Emma moving out - she says hi, and it's okay, by the way - but I like your company and-"

" _Jack."_ Elsa says firmly, trying to ignore Genie-slash-Robin's manic grinning and equally excited thumbs-up. Stopping mid-sentence, Jack looks at her with nervous, startled eyes.

It makes sense. When she was last in the world, it was pounds, shillings and pence. Now it's dollars. The occasional horse-drawn carriage is now the seemingly popular and ubiquitous motorised car - horseless, another peculiarity - and the myriad lights that adorn nearly every surface of the city are powered by something called _electricity._ She has a _lot_ to catch up on, a _lot_ of reading to do, and to be quite frank...aside from Genie, Jack is the only friend she has. Maybe more than a friend, if what Genie says is true, and it is certainly something she would like to explore. So the answer comes easier than she expected.

"I think it's a very good idea," she says, smiling warmly, and just before her fingers dance over to his plate, steal some of his ' _French fries'_ and pop them into her mouth, she says, "I would love to stay with you, for as long as you'll have me."

Jack's entire body relaxes, and a loud sigh of relief escapes his throat. "Thank God, I was starting to…" he begins, breathlessly, but his face instantly cuts into an indignant scowl when he whines-

"What is it with people stealing my fries?!"


End file.
